


3am

by Mycroffed



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 3AM Firealarm AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Sniper for hire!Clint, detective!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroffed/pseuds/Mycroffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton and Phil Coulson meet when their fire alarm goes off at three am. They hit it off straight away, but can they surmount their differences?</p>
            </blockquote>





	3am

**Author's Note:**

> So I read this prompt: "the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear" and I might have gone just a bit too far. It turned into a 'no powers AU' and then it just took off from there. I hope you like it!  
> Thanks for reading, kudo'ing and commenting!

Clint helped people. In an unconventional way, granted, but he was still convinced that he was helping the people he worked for. That's what he told himself, at least. It was just a matter of living with what he did, really. During the day, he was an archery teacher - innocent enough, he loved his job, but it didn't really pay well - and during the night - well, some nights - he worked for an organization that occasionally wanted other people dead.

He was fine with it, really. He was one of the best at his job. He always killed his victims with a single shot, right between the eyes. Nobody had survived a visit from him so far. He hadn't missed a single shot so far.

He couldn't allow people to come close to him, definitely not the cop who lived in the same building as him. He had done some research - or, he broke into the man's flat while he was at work, read the name of the senior detective on one of his files and googled the man's name - and had discovered that Phil J. Coulson was also one of the best at his job, looked rather handsome - according to his facebook picture at least - and was also conveniently single. Not that Clint cared or anything, nope. He wasn't going to flirt with the man. It was too much of a risk. But then again, he didn't really care about risks, now did he? The only thing he did care about was the adrenaline rush.

The day after his research, he talked to one of his archery protégées, Kate Bishop. He needed to talk about what he had discovered before he made a stupid move - because that was what he did, he made stupid moves when it came to his flirting life.

"So you really broke into his apartment?" Kate asked, right before she drew another arrow and shot the target in front of her, seemingly without looking, but Clint knew better. The corner of one's eyes is a remarkable thing.

"Katie Kate, you really have to learn how to listen. That's what I just said. I broke in, read his name on one of his files, returned back home and then googled him. Facebook is a magical place." He grinned at her. The annoyed grumble of _don't call me that_ was enough for him to grin only wider.

"So what are you going to do about it? He's single, you share a building and you share a subject. Hawkeye. Do something about it, Clint, do whatever you want. Don't just stand here complaining about how this handsome guy is living in your building, who's trying to lock you up for multiple murder and just go for it." Kate had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, Clint could tell. "But don't be surprised when it all comes crumbling down around you sooner or later."

"Aww, Kate..." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "He's cute, okay? I like him. I'm really not going to try and make a move at him. I just wanted you to know that I discovered who the man is that's on my case. That's all. And he's cute. Really cute."

Now Kate did roll her eyes. She knew rather a lot about his life - she knew about his life time job, sometimes she even helped, since she was _almost_ as good with a bow as him - and she also knew he was a complete idiot about some things. Like this. "Then go for it. You can always try to keep it a secret." She didn't mean it, but the sarcasm somehow escaped Clint.

A happy grin spread on his face. "That's a great idea, thanks. I will definitely do that. Now... The question is how I am going to do that." He bit his lip as he tried to concentrate. Almost unconsciously, he pulled out an arrow, nocked it and started shooting the target in front of him.

"Clint, you can't possibly be serious..." Kate sighed - she _almost_ sounded desperate. When she didn't get a reaction, she rolled her eyes again. "Of course you're serious. You're _you_. I'm not helping you with this, just so you know."

Clint was too lost in thoughts to hear her, so she rolled her eyes once more, put her bow away again and left the target practice room. The senior archer didn't notice that she was gone until he stopped shooting, hours later. He had a plan.

 

*

 

He didn't even get to actually execute the plan - he was exhausted after shooting all day and the long night the previous day. He had finally returned home around two am and then jumped straight into the shower. He was actually singing to himself - nobody else was there to hear him, otherwise he would never ever let someone hear his voice - for ages and by the time he got out of the shower and was drying himself, it was already three am.

He sighed. He hated late nights and he knew that he probably would be sleeping till one pm the next morning. He was walking around his apartment naked, drying his hair with a towel, when the fire alarm went off.

_Great_.

It didn't even take five seconds of the most annoying sound in the world before the sprinklers started, well, sprinkling. In about half a minute, he was soaking wet again. After a few curse words, he wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way downstairs to the area where they were supposed to collect when these sort of things happen.

He wasn't the one only one who wasn't wearing a shirt or pants, but he was definitely the only one who had been showering at three am, which didn't really surprised him. People tended to sleep at this time of night. He glanced around the square where the other people from his building had gathered. He spotted a quite awake Phil standing a bit away from the other people, talking on his phone.

He moved to same side where the detective was talking and nonchalantly leaned against the wall, one hand on his hip to hold onto his towel. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Phil throw glances in his direction and he couldn't help but grin. This might not have been his plan, but it was a start. When the cop had hung up the phone, he walked over to him.

"Looks like you weren't sleeping like the others." He smirked as he obviously checked out the archer. "You look great though, you can really sport a towel."

Clint couldn't help but blush brightly, but the darkness and the light of the street lights were enough to hide it from the cop. "Thank you? And I was taking a shower, if you wanted to know." He waited just a second before he added a barely audible _youlookreallygoodaswell_.

Phil just smiled at him and nodded as a thank you. "Showering at three am. Do you have sleeping problems or does it just come with the job?"

"Bit of both, I suppose." He said, carefully. "I'm an archery teacher down at the local gym, but sometimes I have some unconventional hours. I've got a friend, for example, who likes to shoot late at night. So we come together around midnight and shoot till maybe one thirty or something."

"Archery teacher huh? That's a job you don't hear every day. Does it pay well? If you don't mind me saying that is." Phil immediately realized how awkward that question was and now it was his turn to blush. Clint couldn't help but smirk slightly. It suited the man, really, but he had a feeling that this wasn't a daily occurrence.

"It pays enough for a comfortable life." Clint shrugged. "I can buy an upgrade for my bow from time to time, which is the most important thing in my life, really." It paid for everything, in more than one way. "So what is it you do?"

"I'm a detective for the NYPD. I don't know if you've heard of the Hawkeye case? It's been all over the news lately. The man killed someone new yesterday evening. Well, I'm the detective on that case." He grinned at the archer. "And don't be offended, but I have to ask this every archer I meet. Are you shooting people for other people?"

Clint gasped, pretending to be offended. "But detective.." He could hide his grin only for a few seconds. "No, I am not shooting people for other people. I teach people how to shoot targets and that's all that I do, nothing more."

Phil sent him a genuine smile. "I knew you wouldn't, it wouldn't... it wouldn't suit you."

"Suit me?" Clint tilted his head curiously.

"The way you are, your... your character." Phil scratched the back of his neck, kind of awkwardly. "I'm a detective, it's what I do." He almost immediately felt the need to apologize indirectly, which rather amused Clint.

"Detective. Right." He grinned back. "By the way, I'm Clint. Dunno if you know that already." He shrugged awkwardly with one shoulder. "Clint Barton."

Phil held out his hand towards the archer and Clint took it before the other could introduce himself. It was a tight grip, but not too tight, it was absolutely perfect and not noteworthy.

"Phil Coulson."

"Nice to finally meet you, Phil." Clint sent a charming smile to the detective. "Would you like to go on a date sometime soon?"

Phil made a genius impression of a goldfish before he closed his mouth again and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Whenever suits for you, really."

"Awesome." The archer grinned. "How about tomorrow evening? Around seven?"

"That sounds great. I'll see you then."

The firemen soon cleaned the house - it was a false alarm, big surprise - and Clint mumbled something to himself as he returned to his flat. "Today sucks, I'm going back to bed." Crawling into bed as soon as he was dry again, he was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

 

*

 

Clint woke up by a phone call and while he tried to get out of bed in time to answer it, he whined to himself, annoyed. "Phone, I hate you." Right before he could take the phone off the hook, the phone stopped ringing. "And now I hate you even more." He grumbled to himself and turned around to the door, determined to get back to bed. He didn't even make it to the stairs before the phone started to ring again.

"This is Clint." He grumbled, even though it wasn't the fault of the person on the other side of the line that he had still been sleeping. A glance at the clock told him it was one pm.

"Clint, can we meet today for a shooting session?" It was Kate. "Heard about the fire alarm last night. The handsome policeman must have been there as well. Did he talk to you? Did you talk to him? did something happen?"

"Kate..." He mumbled, barely stifling a yawn. "Really not the moment to talk. Can I just get some time to wake up before I have to hear your chatter?"

"What time did you get in your bed last night?" This was Kate, always straight to the point.

"Three thirty? Lost track of time talking to the handsome cop." He knew he was probably making a mistake by telling her, but he had promised himself a long time ago that he would never lie to her, at least not about anything important. That had been right after she had caught him coming home after a job, blood splatters all over him.

"So you _did_ talk to him." She shouldn't sound so excited, Clint decided. It was too early to be this excited.

"Yes. And if you want to hear the full story, you'll have to meet me at the range. In an hour of two. Because I'm going back to bed for an hour so that you can actually talk to me."

He didn't even wait for a reply before he hung up on her and got back into bed.

 

*

 

When Clint became aware of the world again, the first thing he realized that his phone was once again ringing. He cursed softly to himself and rolled out of bed, only barely avoiding falling face first onto the floor. He made it to the phone and took a deep breath before he picked up. "Do I want to know?"

"Clinton Francis Barton!" He pretended not to flinch when the other person used his full name. "Why aren't you at the range?"

"Katie Kate..." He sighed - if she annoyed him then he could annoy her too. "I am sorry, I'll get ready and come over to the range in ten. Well, maybe thirty. As fast as I can..."

"You better. I am not going to wait longer than half an hour. If you're not here by then, I'm gone. Now hurry." She hung up on him, which annoyed him as well, but he had done the same thing to her earlier, so he could probably forgive her. If he ever woke up again that was. He dragged himself to his coffee machine and set it on. While he waited for the coffee to be ready, he threw some water in his face and got dressed - "Where the hell is my purple shirt?" - before he poured himself a cup of coffee.

He drank that as fast as he could - "aw, coffee, you're hot!" - before he grabbed his bow and rushed out of the apartment and over to the shooting range. He wasn't surprised that Kate was already waiting there, standing with her arms crossed. She looked disappointed but not surprised. She could've known that he would be too late - he was Clint Barton after all.

"You're finally here. Do you know what time it is?" Kate shouted at him as he approached her. When she only got a shrug as a reply, she continued. "It's three pm already. When did you get home again after the fire alarm?"

"Three thirty. But you know that already." He mumbled as soon as he was close enough. "I haven't slept too great, alright?"

"What? Are you nervous?" She huffed. Clint didn't react. "You _are_ nervous. What's happening today?"

" _Ivegotadatewithphil_." He said, almost too quick to understand.

"What? A date with Phil? When did you manage that?" Her eyes widened. "You know, never mind, yesterday obviously. What time?"

"Seven." A wide grin spread on Kate's face. "I am not going to let you help me, Kate." Clint crossed his arms as he stood next to her. "I can do this on my own."

"Do you know what you're going to do?" Kate was bouncing with energy and there was no way that she was going to let this opportunity to dress Clint pass. "You could take him to dinner. Or go to a movie."

"Kate, I'm not going to let you plan my date!" He said, offended. "I am going to do this on my own, alright?"

"Come on, Clint, you've got to let me help. You're a disaster with these sort of things." Kate turned her puppy eyes to him. Even though he had about a decade on her, that didn't stop her from trying to use her puppy eyes. He wasn't going to give in. _No_.

"Fine..." He sighed as he gave in. "You can help me, but you have to promise that you won't be there, snooping around. I want this to be a normal first date, I don't need the second Hawkeye snooping around on the scene."

"Oh but Hawkeye..." She pouted. "Please?"

"Kate, _no_."

 

*

 

It was a couple of minutes before the two of them had agreed to meet when Clint found himself in front of Phil's apartment. He lifted up his hand to go knock on the door, but the door already opened before he even had the chance to touch the wood. His eyes widened and he stepped back, rather nervously. He straightened his purple button up shirt and looked down. "Hello, Phil." He smiled.

"Clint." He sounded amused with the nervousness of the archer. "Where will we be going?"

"I was thinking about taking you out for dinner? I mean, if that's okay with you." He glanced up, which was a huge mistake. The man in front of him was wearing a suit and a tie. He looked so handsome that Clint couldn't say a single word for a couple of seconds.

"Are you okay? Barton, talk to me." The detective placed his hand on the archer's shoulder, trying to get him to react again.

The touch made Clint snap out of whatever trance he was in. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He grinned apologetically. "I was just... You look great."

"Thank you." Phil smiled genuinely at him. "You look great as well."

Clint beamed at the cop. "So... Are you ready to go?"

After a nod from the detective, he offered him an arm and guided him to the pizza place he had decided to take the man. It wasn't too expensive, but the place was nice and there was an aura of home - well, that was how Clint saw it anyway. One of the waiters guided them to a table for two, next to the window with a clear look at the door for the archer. It was his usual table, but this time the waiter had put down a burning candle down on it - "it's more romantic".

Phil looked around, like he was taking in the room. "It's beautiful here." The cop said softly before he looked at Clint again. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"It's my favourite restaurant, I come here all the time." The archer explained, smiling softly. "You're the first... uh... date that I have brought here." Another blush spread on his face.

Phil laughed softly. "Well, that's an honour, Clint, to be your first date to be introduced to your favourite restaurant." He gently took the archer's hand. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. This is rather embarrassing, but... I have been looking forward for an opportunity to talk to you ever since I moved in."

The blush that hadn't quite left his cheeks yet, brightened when Phil gave him that compliment. "Really? When... When did you move in?"

"About a year ago now?" He did sound a bit embarrassed by the fact. "I probably should've made a move of some sorts, but I've been busy with my job and then I got the Hawkeye case. It just got out of hand."

"I know you're probably not allowed to say anything about it, but do you have a lead in that Hawkeye case?" Clint made sure that he didn't sound too curious, but also not too disinterested. He wanted to know where the police stood in their investigation and mainly, if he was even a suspect.

"Well, Hawkeye is good. He hasn't left any DNA or fingerprints on any of his scenes, not even on his arrows." Phil said, shrugged slightly. "But does that really matter? I thought we were here on a date, not to talk about my work."

"Yeah, yeah, of course, I'm sorry." Clint smiled apologetically. "I was just curious about the type of work you do, I'm sorry."

"That's okay." He got a polite smile in return, but before Clint could say something else to ruin everything, the waiter turned up and asked if they were ready to order.

_Thank god_.

 

*

The rest of the date went by without any problems - the two of them really hit it off and as soon as they had discovered a subject of interest - and when their dinner - well, the pizza - was over, Clint paid for the two of them and the two of them headed back to their building. In the elevator, the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. The two of them waited until the elevator stopped on Clint's floor before they talked again.

"So..." Phil started.

"So..." Clint repeated, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Tonight was great, thank you for that."

The detective nodded. "Yeah, it was. I think it's great enough to try again, don't you think?"

Clint smiled widely - he couldn't remember the last time he had smiled this much, it must've been ages - and nodded. "Yes, I would love that, Phil." He stepped closer to the man and glanced briefly at his lips. "I would definitely love that."

Phil licked his lips - it drove Clint kind of crazy - and met the archer halfway before he wrapped his arms around Clint's waist and pulled him into a gentle, chaste kiss. The kiss was returned almost immediately and Clint tangled his hands into the man's hair.

They broke apart about a minute after to gasp for air, but they didn't move away from each other. Phil smiled widely at him and brushed his lips against Clint's briefly before walking away from the archer. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Clint nodded, relieved that this wasn't going to be the end. "You'll see me tomorrow." The archer left the elevator and could almost feel the detective's eyes on his back - mainly his ass.

 

*

 

Clint had been asleep when his phone went off. He picked up, his voice slurring with sleep. "'Lo?"

"Hawkeye. We have another job for you."

It was the same voice as always, but there was something different this time. Clint just couldn't put his finger on it. "Do we have to do this now?" Clint mumbled. He did not mean it of course, he knew that it was either now or he would probably drop dead at the first opportune moment, but he was too sleepy to be able to flirter his thoughts and his words.

"You already know the answer to that, Hawkeye. We will send you the details via text. We want the man dead by dawn tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." He made it sound like he was saluting, but there was a mocking element to it. "I will take care of it right away."

The man hung up on him and yes, a few seconds afterwards he got a text with the details of his next job. He got out of bed and prepared himself for the job, dressed in his normal black armour suit with hints of purple. He put on his mask and left his apartment through the window - he didn't want Phil to see him dressed like that now, did he? He disappeared into the night soon after.

 

*

 

Clint was once again woken by the phone. It was early, he could feel it by how tired he still was. He had returned home after the job was finished and had cleaned up. By the time he got in bed, it was already six am. He couldn't have slept more than a couple of hours, which meant that it was maybe eight? He didn't know and he wasn't awake enough to look at the clock yet.

But the phone was still ringing and he really had to pick up soon. It was probably important. But he didn't get out of bed in time before the phone went on to the answering machine.

"Hello, Clint?" It was Phil and he relaxed ever so slightly. He closed his eyes while he listened to the rest of the message. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that we'll be able to see each other again tonight. Hawkeye attacked again last night and I will probably be stuck on the crime scene for the rest of the day. I'm really sorry, I was looking forward to seeing you again. Let me know when you received this message. So, okay, I'll... I'll see you later?"

As soon as the message was over, Clint drifted back into sleep.

 

*

 

There was a knock at his door. Well, not as much as a knock but more a banging. Did someone find him? No, he'd been careful not to leave any trails. He had been in a fight with his victim and the man had managed to hit him rather hard in the ribs and now he probably had some sort of severe bruising. He wasn't going to go to a doctor, what was the point even? There was no way he could explain how this had happened.

"Who's there?" He shouted out, hoping that the person at his door could hear him.

"It's me you big idiot, let me in!"

It was Kate. He sighed relieved. "The key is under the doormat." He could hear the key in the lock and the door opening after that.

"Clint, where the hell are you?" She called out to him. "I know that you went on another mission last night why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Bedroom. I think I bruised my ribs. I'm not really in the mood to come out of bed today. Didn't really have time to call for you. But you know that I would if I had had enough time."

"You big idiot." She said, once again, but she rushed to his side and started to check out his side. "Just a big bruise, like you said. You'll be on your feet again by tomorrow." She gently stroked his cheek, smiling softly. "You really need to be more careful, Clint, you can't keep doing this and getting hurt all the time."

"I know, but... I had to. I had till dawn or I would've been killed." He sighed. "He called me right after I came home from my date with Phil. I didn't want to die, not tonight."

"Speaking of, how did it go?" Kate helped him sit up on the bed. "Did you enjoy yourself with him?"

Clint nodded slowly. "It went... It went amazing, really. We talked a lot and when we returned home, we kissed. He told me we would see each other again tonight, but he can't because of the Hawkeye case. Because of the dead man I left behind." He sighed and then winced. He needed to figure out just how much he could do with bruised ribs.

"I'm glad for you, Clint." She walked down to the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please!" He leaned back against the wall. "Katie Kate, what would I do without you?"

"Nothing! You wouldn't be able to do anything."

Clint only smiled in agreement.

 

*

 

"Clint?" There was once again a call from the other side of the door. But it wasn't Kate this time, since she had left a couple of hours ago to return home for her own dinner. "Clint are you home?"

The archer groaned as he pushed himself out of his bed, making his way down the stairs. He held on tightly to his side in an attempt to reduce the pain coming from his complaining ribs. "Yeah, I'm coming!"

He opened the door. As soon as Clint saw Phil standing opposite him, he grinned widely, but he also knew that there was no way that he would get away with being wounded without at least a question from him. And he was right. He looked terrible, he knew that - Kate had told him as much - and his ribs were still killing him.

"Clint!" Phil rushed inside and placed his hand on the one Clint was holding against his ribs. "What happened to you? Were you attacked? How did you get hurt?"

"Phil, calm down, nothing happened. I... I went to a gym and a sparred with one of my friends. Only she hit me a bit harder than she had expected. I'm perfectly fine, don't worry about me." Clint sent the detective a weak smile as he leaned into the other's touch. "I'll be fine in a couple of days, just you wait."

It was clear that Phil didn't completely believe his story, but he didn't say anything about it. "Then let me take care of you tonight, make you dinner or we could get take-out if you want to. You can't look after yourself in this situation."

The archer smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Phil's cheek. "That would be amazing, thank you." He hummed and stepped aside so that the detective could get inside. "I would've survived without food today, but it's always nice to have someone look after me."

"I would love to look after you for as long as you want - or need." He smiled and walked into the kitchen. "So what do you have in your fridge that I can use to make you food?"

"I have some dog treats." He grinned apologetically. "And some other dry things to eat, but nothing to make dinner. I... I don't normally make food, not generally."

Clint got a surprised grin from Phil. "You eat dog treats?"

"Nope. Well, not generally. I tasted one once and it isn't too bad, really. But I had a dog. My friend is looking after him now, but I do have those dog treats for a reason." Clint felt so stupid that he had to admit that, but he was a mess sometimes. And a pretty lazy mess when it didn't come to archery.

"Alright, I'll go to the grocery store then. I mean, if you don't want take-out after all."

"Phil..." Clint moved closer to the detective and pulled him as close in his arms as he possibly could without hurting himself too badly. "You are amazing, you know that? You don't have to do all this for me."

"I know. But I want to. I want to make sure that you're alright, that I won't get a call from your friend in a couple of days, telling me that you are dead because you starved to death. Let me do this for you, Clint, please. I know that we only went on one date, but I'd like for you to survive this so we can make it a second."

Clint laughed, surprised. "You make it sound as if I can't move at all. Phil, I bruised my ribs. I can still walk, I can still take care of myself, it's only a bit slower than usual. My side complains with almost every move I make, but that doesn't take away the fact that I can move." He cupped the man's cheeks. "Thank you for wanting to look after me, Phil, but I am fine. And I still will be in a couple of days."

"You are unbelievable." Phil shook his head fondly. "I'll go get you some food. Do you want to come or would you prefer to stay here?"

"I'll come with you." Clint said. "Just give me a couple of minutes to get dressed. Shouldn't take too long." He smiled and made his way back upstairs to get dressed in something a bit more appropriate than the pyjama he'd been wearing all day.

Clint returned, dressed in a simply white shirt with some purple target on it and some rather tight jeans. He walked over to Phil - he was walking a bit straighter and he wasn't holding onto his ribs anymore - and grabbed everything he'd need for grocery shopping.

 

*

 

Grocery shopping was great. He and Phil were making jokes all the time as they were walking around the store, Clint grabbing whatever he thought was good or tasty, while Phil gave him a _look_ every time he did, after which Clint would put the thing back. In the end, it was Phil who decided what they would buy to feed him. Clint paid for everything and after that, Phil drove back home.

It was when the detective was standing in his kitchen, making food for him that Clint realized that he didn't want to continue what he was doing for a job. He wanted to be able to be honest with him. Hiding part of his life - especially because Phil was the one hunting him - just didn't feel right. He was going to call his bosses and tell them that he was quitting. Granted, he'd probably get into big trouble, but he couldn't care less. He just wanted some peace.

He didn't even realize that he had been lost in thought until Phil turned towards him and said his name multiple times. "You are somewhere completely else, aren't you?" Phil smirked as he crossed his arms, looking at him.

"I was just thinking, Phil, 'm sorry." He mumbled. "You got my undivided attention now." One of his superiors had told him once that he wanted his undivided attention and Clint hadn't known what it meant - he actually had to use a dictionary to know what it meant.

"Did it hurt?" He said, his face blank.

Clint blinked a few times, surprised. "W-What?" He swallowed. Did Phil just insult him? Or was he just imagining things?

"Thinking, did it hurt?" There was a slight smile around his lips now, which told Clint that it had indeed been a joke. He forced a laugh, but he had to remind himself that he hadn't told Phil about his past at the circus yet, about the fact that he didn't get past sixth grade because he'd been travelling around the world.

The archer had the brilliant reaction of sticking out his tongue to the cook. Phil just laughed at that.

Dinner was actually amazing. Phil had made something simply, an amazing homemade pasta sauce, but it was delicious - maybe it was so delicious just because the detective made it - and Clint ate three portions of it.

"This is delicious, Phil, where did you learn how to cook?" He hummed when he put his last bite in his mouth.

"Ah, well, you kind of have to as a detective unless you want to survive on take-out food." The detective smiled shyly. "I know exactly how to make two things: this pasta sauce and some kinds of risotto."

"I don't think I have ever had risotto." Clint narrowed his eyes as he tried to think back to the last time he had food that he hadn't made himself. He couldn't think of anything. "That's what you get for growing up in the circus."

"You grew up in the circus?" Phil sounded actually surprised, as if he hadn't done a background check already. "That's pretty awesome."

"I'm... Yeah, I suppose it was." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. He never thought about his childhood as awesome. He pushed himself back on his feet and made his way to the bathroom after a brief apology.

He threw some water in his face and leaned on the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror and sighed deeply. "Get it together, Clint, come on." He sighed and flushed the toilet to hold up the illusion that he used it before he went back out there, back into the kitchen.

Phil was already cleaning up the table and doing the dishes by the time that Clint came back into the living room. "Hey you didn't have to do that!" He rushed next to his side and started to help with the dishes.

"Hey! You've got bruised ribs, you need to rest." Phil protested. "Go and watch TV or something." Clint laughed softly as he was shooed away from the sink.

He sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, just like the detective had suggested. He kept zapping until he found a channel where America's Next Top Model was playing. He then turned away from the television and stared subtly - well... - at Phil's ass.

When Phil had finished the dishes, he joined the archer on the couch, snuggling up against him carefully in an attempt not to hurt him. "Are we seriously going to watch that?"

"I like it, Phil. Have you ever seen a girl have a breakdown only because she thinks that her hair is ruined? It's hilarious, seriously." He grinned. "When I feel bad, I like to watch it. Plus, it's an excellent opportunity to laugh with humanity."

"Hmm." The detective sounded sceptical, but he was grinning at him. "Well, I'm changing the subject suddenly and abruptly then. I'm meeting up with my friends after dinner tomorrow, would you like to join me?"

"Your friends?" He asked, tilting his head. "I mean, I'm not surprised that you have friends, I just... You haven't told me about them yet."

"Well, I think you're going to love them, Clint. We're a little gang and we could use an extra member. So... If you like them and if you would like to spend more time with me maybe... maybe you could join?" He sounded hopeful and smiled at the archer. "Only if you want to, of course, you don't have to feel like I'm forcing you."

Clint grinned and pulled Phil into a kiss. "Yes, Phil. I would love that. I can't wait to meet them all tomorrow." He smiled and snuggled into the detective a bit more. "I can't wait."

Phil relaxed against him and smiled back. He looked glad, he looked happy to be there with him. That was enough for Clint to relax enough to let himself drift off to sleep as they snuggled and watched ANTM.

 

*

 

"To what do we owe this call, Hawkeye?"

"I want to quit."

"You can't. We would have to kill you."

"Fine, I'll state it differently. I'm quitting and either you let me go or I disappear from your radar and you'll never see me again."

There was a brief silence.

"So what do you say?"

"We want you to do one last job, Hawkeye. One last kill and then you can consider yourself free of our employment."

"Just send me the details."

 

*

 

Clint knocked on Phil's door the next evening. He remembered waking up in the morning in his bed with a note on his table. _Thank you for last night, thought you'd be more comfortable in your bed. I'm off to work, I'll see you tonight. I'll come and pick you up_. He knew that Phil had told him that he'd come pick him up, but he wanted to make up to the detective for the previous night. The man had been amazing with looking after him, but he felt like he had to do at least something in return.

Phil opened the door - he was dressed in a plain shirt and joggings, which did strange things to Clint - and smiled when he saw Clint standing in front of him. "Hey there. I was... I was just about to get changed so I could pick you up."

"I just wanted to thank you." Clint pressed a soft kiss against the detective's cheek. "You look amazing like this, without the suit."

The detective pulled Clint into a proper, deep kiss as he guided him inside and closed the door.

"Hmm, sweetie, don't take this the wrong way, but if you continue to do this, I will feel the need to help you undress. And we might be late for meeting up with your friends."

Phil smirked. "Shut up and kiss me, you idiot."

Said idiot listened to the detective and returned the kiss, turned it passionate, hungry. He followed the man into his bedroom, disappearing for a good hour. Clint didn't care that they'd be late for that dinner date - or whatever it was supposed to be - with Phil's friends. He was in seventh heaven right now and nothing could get him away from there.

The two of them were about to leave when Phil's phone went off. Clint grabbed it before the detective could pick up, just to tease the man. "Coulson's phone."

"Phil? Are you and your boy toy coming or not?" It was a baritone kind of voice on the other side of the line and the man sounded arrogant, just calling him a boy toy - what kind of nerve did he have?

"Well, this is the boy toy speaking. We were about to leave." Clint tried not to sound too annoyed - after all, he had to meet these people in about ten minutes. He glanced over at Phil, who was gesturing to give the phone to him. The archer ignored him.

"Ah Legolas! Good to finally hear your voice. We've all heard a lot about you, Detective just doesn't shut up about you. We're all looking forward to meeting you." Some other voices drifted in from the background, but Clint couldn't make out what exactly they were saying.

"Don't call me -" He sighed. "You know what, Phil and I are leaving right now. I'll see you all when we get there." Without even waiting for a reply, he hung up on the man. He didn't even want to know who he'd been talking to. Phil glared at him when he handed the detective his phone back.

"Don't do that again, okay?" He said - Clint just shrugged. The detective shook his head and guided him down to his car so that they could leave for the pub they were going to meet everybody.

 

*

 

"Ah, Coulson!"

Clint looked over to the man who had called out - he had dark hair that was standing up in all directions and a goatee - and then to the rest of the table. There were four other people sitting there. A man with dark, greyish curls and glasses, a red headed girl and two blonde guys. One of them had hair that reached his shoulders, the other had a haircut that was fashionable in the nineteen forties. He glanced over at Phil and he could see a wide grin spread over his face.

"Stark! Sorry we're so late, we were... otherwise engaged." Phil explained quickly. Nobody needed more information to know that they had _closed the deal_. The snickering told Clint enough.

"Well, we're glad to finally meet your Legolas." The man who was called Stark said. "Tony Stark. And this is Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, Thor and Steve Rogers." Bruce waved shyly at Clint, Natasha barely looked up at him, while Thor boomed a loud _hello_ and Steve smiled politely.

"Clint Barton." The archer nodded. "Nice to meet you."

Clint sat down next Phil and leaned against him. The detective smiled and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"So how did you two meet? Coulson never really told us." Bruce looked away from the kiss, but once Phil pulled away again, he looked back at the two of them.

"Well, we met when our fire alarm went off in the middle of the night." Clint smirked. "I was dressed in nothing but a towel and he couldn't help but check me out. I asked him out immediately after."

"That's actually kind of romantic." Steve said, smiling. "Well, it's nice to meet you."

"Well, what do you all do? I mean, how did you guys meet?"

Everybody exchanged a few looks, which made Clint frown ever so slightly. Did he ask something that he shouldn't have? It made him nervous, thinking that he offended Phil's friends.

"It's complicated." Stark said. "We were all friends of Detective here and one day we all met up and it just... it clicked." He shrugged. "And ever since that time, we meet up every so often."

"I'll tell you more when we get home again." Phil whispered softly in Clint's ear. "It really is complicated."

Clint nodded and leaned into the detective's touch. He was about to say something to him, but that moment his phone went off. He mumbled an apology before he got it out of his pocket. _Unknown number_. "I'm sorry, I need to take this. I'll be back in a moment."

He didn't wait for anyone to tell him it was okay before he walked out of the little cafe, out of everybody's hearing range. "Hawkeye speaking."

"We have the details for your last job. A week from tonight. You will receive a text with the details." They hung up on him, like they always did. Clint took a deep breath and looked down.

"Well, that's great. At least I'll be done." He mumbled softly and opened the text he had received. He quickly scanned through it before he decided that he'd probably have to start working on preparing himself tomorrow already. _Great_. But for now, he could take an evening off.

He quickly returned back to the table where everybody was talking animatedly about some sort of game that Stark was developing. Clint quietly joined them and enjoyed the rest of the evening quietly, his mind too distracted to actively engage.

 

*

 

The week went by fast, like always when Clint was working on a new job. He tried to see Phil as much as he could, tried not to make it too obvious that he was trying to take a bit of distance. He felt bad about the fact that he was lying to the detective about his involvement with Hawkeye and the case. But it was going to be over soon, Phil wouldn't have to know about that side of him and the case would be closed if there wouldn't be any more occurrences.

Clint liked Phil. He wouldn't be giving this up if he didn't, because doing these jobs turned up a great pay from time to time. Because, let's be honest, being an archery teacher didn't really turn up much.

He had a visit from Kate three days before the job. She made it pretty clear that he was an idiot for wanting to quit and that he was an even bigger idiot for doing it for Phil.

Clint on the other hand, explained to her that he couldn't move on with the detective when he had to be scared of being discovered by his lover every time that he went on a job. Kate gave up on convincing him that it was a stupid idea and left him, rather upset. Clint knew that she would never give up on him completely, that the two of them would still meet up to shoot, but for now, he was glad to have some space.

The day of the job, Clint hung out with Phil in the afternoon, trying to act like he wasn't going to kill a man later that evening. He was pretty sure that he was doing alright. After dinner, Clint's phone went off - it was a planned thing with Kate, she had eventually agreed to give him an alibi for the time while he was on the job - and he apologized himself to Phil. He pulled the man into a deep, almost desperate kiss, as if he was saying goodbye to him.

 

*

 

Clint was hiding on the top of the building, his bow ready to shoot his victim when he would leave his office at the other side of the street to make his way home. The man usually left around two am - he worked in finances and it was usual for him to leave this late - but now it was already getting close to three o'clock and the man still hadn't shown his face. He was going to give it another thirty minutes before he took off.

Fifteen minutes later, his victim left the building and Clint got up on his feet, waiting for the most opportune moment to shoot him. He was about to let the arrow go when a police siren went off on the street. Clint cursed to himself, quickly packed his bow and turned around, ready to go rush downstairs and make it out of there. Before he could even reach the door, it was barged open and police officers came running onto the roof.

"Put down your weapon and hold your hands behind your head!"

Clint knew that name. He sighed deeply, put down his bow and did what the detective asked. He looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. But of course, it didn't take too long before Phil walked over to him. "Hawkeye, I'm arresting you for the murders of-" Phil abruptly started talking and Clint knew that the detective had recognized him.

"Hi, Phil." He said softly, meeting the detective's eyes.

"Clint... You told me you weren't... You lied to me..." The man pulled himself together the moment one of the officers - Clint realized it was Natasha - asked if he was alright. "Hawkeye - Mr. Barton, I'm arresting you for the Hawkeye murders and attempted murder on Mr. Bell. You don't have to say anything, but anything you do say can be used against you in court." He cuffed the archer while he was talking.

Clint knew when he was screwed and this was it. He wasn't going to make it any harder on Phil than it was already going to be. He let the detective guide him downstairs and into one of the police cars, before he got behind the wheel and drove away.

 

*

 

"The time is three fifty-three am, the date the 24th of July 2015. Present for the interrogation of Clinton Francis Barton, also known as Hawkeye, are DI Philip J. Coulson and Officer Natasha Romanov." Phil acted like he didn't know the man he was about to interrogate. Clint knew what he was doing, he knew that he was simply trying to stay on the case. "Mr. Barton, you were caught in the middle of a murder attempt on Mr. Bell. Why were you there?"

"Phil, look, I know-"

" _Don't_ call me that. For you, I am Detective Coulson, nothing more." The man snapped before banging his hands on the table and getting up. He started to pace, glancing at Clint every once and a while.

"I know I lied to you, _Phil_ , but how was I supposed to reply to your question. 'Hi, I like you, I would like to go out with you, but there's one thing you should know. I'm also Hawkeye, the murderer you've been looking for, for about five years.'" Clint glared at the detective. "Do you honestly think that that was a good way to get a date with you? It was all real, Phil, I never lied to you about anything but my involvement with the Hawkeye case."

"How can I trust you? How can I be sure that you didn't lie about how much you like me when you have kept this a secret for so long." Phil clenched his jaw, like he was trying not to do something - to be honest, Clint would be relieved if Phil would hit him, he deserved it. "Did you return from a job that night we met?"

"No. I really was returning from a late night shooting with my friend Kate." Clint said. He looked at his hands - he was starting to fidget, he should stop doing that - and wished that he had checked his surroundings better than he had.

"This Kate, does she know about Hawkeye?"

Clint shook his head immediately - maybe a bit too soon. "No, she doesn't. She's just a pupil who has grown to be a friend of mine. I have a question myself: how did you find me?"

"I'm the one asking the questions, Hawkeye. How did you get that codename by the way?"

"Stage name in the circus." Clint shrugged. "How did you find me?"

Phil sighed and gave in. "We got an anonymous call with your location and the name of your victim. So you really did grow up in the circus. Were you an independent sharp shooter or were you part of a group?"

The archer was silent for a while - Phil was about to repeat the question when Clint replied. "If I tell you who I work for and give you details about members and the way they work, will I get to make a deal?"

"Why would you betray them?" Phil walked over to the table and leaned over to Clint.

"They betrayed me first." If Clint would've been able of crossing his arms, he would've done that right now. "Now, do I get a deal in exchange for information or not?"

"What's the name of the organization you work for?" Phil _did_ cross his arms as he looked at Clint with a sceptic look in his eyes. "Depending on your answer, we'll consider it."

"Hydra."

Phil's eyes widened, just as Natasha's. "You work for Hydra? We got intel into Hydra." He turned to the one way window. "I'm giving him a deal."

"Detective Coulson, my office." A voice of someone who Clint suspected to be behind the window boomed into the room. He didn't turn around, but he looked at the detective as he waited for a reaction of the man. He left the room immediately and Natasha finished off the recording. When she was done, she turned towards him and pushed him against the back of his chair.

"You just broke his heart, I hope you know that." She growled softly. "He could've loved you, you know, if you had given it time. If you get out of prison - because you will go to prison, even with the deal - and you come close to Coulson again, I will personally come after you and skin you."

"This was supposed to be my last job, you know. I told them I was going to quit and I was doing it for him." He snarled back. "Don't think that this wasn't real for me, Romanov, on the contrary, I was prepared to give it all up for him. And I have never met anyone I was going to do that for before."

"This still doesn't take away that you should've told him. He would've protected you somehow. If you even know him at all, you know I'm telling the truth." She backed off ever so slightly, but never completely.

By then, Phil returned to the room. "I can make you an offer, Barton. But I have a personal condition to add as well. You tell us everything you know, we make sure that your prison sentence won't be any more than a couple of months, a year at the most and that you'll be in isolation for your entire sentence. When you get out again, I want you to move and not to ever even attempt to contact me or my friends again. When all this is over, I don't ever want to see you again." He shoved a piece of paper towards him with all the conditions he had just mentioned on there. All the archer had to do was sign it.

Clint tried to pretend that the last part didn't break his heart as he nodded. "Yes, alright. I will do it." He grabbed the pen Phil was holding out towards him and signed the paper. "Now, when do I start talking?"

 

*

 

Hawkeye told the NYPD everything he knew about Hydra - he discovered that every single one of Phil's friends was somehow related to the organization, Stark had been kidnapped, Rogers was one of the people who fought them, Natasha had been trained by the organization before deciding to take distance from them and joining the NYPD, Banner had been followed for a yet unclear reason and Thor had a brother at Hydra - and the trial that followed immediately afterwards was over quickly. The judge sentenced him to a year of prison in solitude and he was sent there before he could even blink.

His stay in prison was boring, really. He lived in solitude, which had his advantages and disadvantages. His advantages were that he didn't have to worry about being attacked by the other Hydra people he had helped put behind bars. The disadvantage was that he'd been bored within the first week. He could go to the gym every day, but apart from that, he didn't really get to leave his cell a lot.

When the year was over, Clint was a different man. It was cliché, granted, but it was the truth. He had spent the first few months pining after Phil, but after five months and after absolutely no visits or letters from the man, he got the hint and got over him. It took the rest of his prison sentence to get there, but the moment he stepped out of the prison, he knew that he wasn't going to go back to the man.

He returned to his apartment and started packing immediately. He only took the things he needed, the things he really wanted - the things that didn't remind him of Phil - with him . He was bringing some of his boxes down to his car when he ran into the detective. Phil looked horrible, like he hadn't been sleeping well the last couple of months . He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was messy. His suit was even messed up - which meant that something was severely wrong.

"Hello, Detective Coulson." Clint said, his voice emotionless and distant.

"Mr. Barton." Phil nodded. "Out of prison?"

"Obviously." Clint snorted. "Thank you for all the visits and letters."

"I made it quite clear that I didn't want to see you ever again. Why do you think that I would keep contact?" Phil was already turning away from him, making his way back to his own apartment.

"Are you doing okay?" He grabbed the detective's arm. "You don't look too good."

"That's none of your business. You gave up on that the moment you decided to lie." He snapped and pulled his arm free. "I have work to do, Barton, I want you to be gone by the time I get out of my apartment."

"Sir, yes, sir!" He saluted mockingly before turning around and making his way down to his car. He continued to pack all his stuff and as soon as he was ready, he disappeared.

 

*

 

Clint didn't see Phil again for a couple of months. It shouldn't surprise him, of course not, the man had cut him out of his life, but after the meeting in the hallway, he had realized that no matter what he thought, he was still not over the detective. And with the state that he'd been in, Clint was worried.

Six months after he had left prison, Clint bumped into Phil again in a sandwich shop. This time, the man looked even worse than the first time. Clint dropped his sandwich and pulled the detective in one of the chairs, sitting him down. "Don't protest. I have the feeling that you will collapse if you continue to walk any further. How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?"

"Piss off, Clint." The detective snarled. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Phil." Clint didn't say anything else, he just started to check the man over, tender and gentle, just like he had done back in bed after their first night.

He sighed deeply and looked down. "Fine, I... I haven't slept decently ever since the big Hydra bust right after you got sent to prison." He subconsciously leaned into the archer's touch. "Things happened that night and... I missed you, which didn't help of course. I wished that I could feel differently about you, but... I still like you, Clint. I have tried to push you out, I didn't want to see you ever again, but... I know it's stupid but I can't help it."

"It's not stupid." Clint whispered. "I thought that I had changed, that I didn't need love - let alone yours - not anymore, but... I was wrong. And I just wished that it had been different, the way we met." He gently stroked the man's cheek. "But maybe, now that I am not that man anymore... Maybe we could start again?"

Phil looked up, hope visible in his eyes. "Would you...? Are you serious?"

Clint nodded and leaned over to press a soft kiss against the detective's lips. But Phil leaned back and moved out of the archer's reach. Clint frowned and wondered what was wrong.

"If we're going to do this again, I want us to start all over again. So we'll start dating again, take things slowly. So no kissing until at least our first date." Clint's pout got a soft laugh out of him. "We either do it my way, Clint, or we don't do it."

"Alright, but I'm taking you out to dinner tonight. And then you're going to join me at my place tonight. We won't do anything, but you're going to sleep in my bed and I'm going to look after you."

"Clint-"

"You're going to let me look after you, Phil, or there won't be any second chance." Clint pecked Phil's cheek and then got up - he grabbed his sandwich, it was still okay. "I'll pick you up tonight."

 

*

 

"Clint? Where did you put my ties? I need one so I can go to work."

"It's in one of the suitcases in the bedroom, sweetie." The archer called back from the bathroom. "I'll unpack them today. I only have one class with Kate today, so I have plenty of time to unpack all the suitcases and at least a few of the boxes."

"It'd be marvellous if you could do that honey." Phil made his way to the bathroom, tie in hands, and kissed Clint deeply. "You're amazing, you know that? Doing most of the lifting and unpacking while I go out and work. And you also did all the painting and the work here before we could move at all."

"Anything for you, darling." He hummed into the kiss. "Are we still meeting our friends tonight?"

"If you're up for it. You could invite Kate as well, I would love to finally meet her."

"I'm not sure if she's ready for that, or if you're ready for that." Clint said, a soft smirk on his lips.

"Come on, Clint, it's been three years since we started again. Do you honestly think that I'm not ready?"

He laughed teasingly and brushed his lips against Phil's before he took the man's tie in his hands. "I'll try to remember to invite her." He started to tie the tie and put it around Phil's neck. "So, now you're even more handsome than usual."

"Thank you." He hummed softly and turned around towards the door. "I'll see you tonight, I love you."

"I love you too, Phil."


End file.
